


Revelation

by DefyingNormalcy



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:50:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 86
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefyingNormalcy/pseuds/DefyingNormalcy
Summary: "Joan doesn't want to hurt Vera. She never did."





	1. Want

**Author's Note:**

> This is a highly experimental fic in which I have challenged myself to post each chapter as a 100-word drabble. No more words, no less words. 
> 
> While I divert from canon, I do borrow elements from it. Overall, this can still be classified as an AU fic.

 

 

Joan doesn’t _want_ to hurt Vera. She never did.

 

“Talk to me,” Vera begs. Her crystal-blue eyes are wide and wet with tears that Joan has inspired.

 

Joan stands in front of her like a marble statue. The elegance of her posture is belied by the cold, hardened look in her deep brown eyes.

 

Vera’s tears pour down her face like hot lava exploding from a long-dormant volcano. Her hands shake as she balls them into fists and tugs the material of Joan’s cardigan.

 

“I can’t,” Joan hisses.

 

“Can’t or won’t?” Vera spits back.

 

  
Joan removes Vera’s hands from her.


	2. Reason

 

Vera packs her clothing with a rage better suited to a hurricane than the sweet, docile woman that Joan has come to know over these last few months.

 

“You are being completely unreasonable,” Joan says from the doorway to their briefly-shared bedroom.

 

“ _Me?_ Oh. Right. Of course.” Vera’s words are laced with venom and Joan finds herself clenching her jaw nervously.

 

Her two suitcases are packed and she’s pulling on her jacket in front of them at the door to Joan’s immaculate house.

 

“Here.” She presses her key into Joan’s pale hand.

 

She waits.

 

Joan says nothing. _Nothing._

  
She leaves.


	3. View

She watches Vera leave. 

 

Watches her muscular arms (hard muscles under skin that feels like silk) lift the heavy bags (capable of lifting Joan from the armchair in their bedroom to the bed that one time) and throw them into the trunk of her car (before throwing her down onto the mattress and sinking to her knees between splayed legs) and drive away.

 

She just watches. 

 

She says nothing.

 

She does nothing. 

 

She feels  _ everything. _ Anger. Pain. Desire. Jealousy. Pride. Affection. Betrayal. Regret.  _ Love.  _

 

_ You’re worthless. You’re pointless. You’re nothing. Nobody loves you.  _

 

Her father had been right all along. 


	4. Scent

Joan reclines against the immaculate sheets and pillows of their bed.

 

_ Her _ bed. 

 

It feels so much larger now, without Vera’s taut limbs tangling with the sheets. It feels so much colder now, without Vera’s hot skin pressed up against hers. 

 

Joan rolls over and curls her legs up to her chest. She wraps her long arms around them. She pretends that they’re Vera’s much smaller arms, encircling her from behind. She tries to recall how Vera’s full, soft lips feel against her shoulder. 

  
She inhales deeply and the lingering smell of Vera’s shampoo on the pillow floods her senses. 


	5. Right

_ I did the right thing _ , Vera tells herself. 

 

She pushes her suitcases into the corner of the apartment she so recently acquired. 

 

She stands in the shower and twists the tap so that scalding water pours out and onto her. After a few minutes, she can’t feel the pain anymore.

 

Well, the physical pain at least. 

 

_ I did the right thing. _

 

Her heart is heavy and broken. This hurts more than when her father left. It hurts more than living with her mother. 

 

It is an inhumane kind of pain. One that deserves to be put out of its misery. 


	6. Wrong

She can’t help but pull on Joan’s sweater before curling up in her bed. She can’t help but cry even harder as Joan’s fresh, lingering scent wraps around her like a warm embrace.

  
She wishes that Joan’s arms would wrap around her and make her feel safe. She always did love how perfectly she fit in the cocoon of Joan’s embrace when they were in bed together.

  
She wishes for a lot of things. A time altering device perhaps, to set her back several hours and set things straight.

  
_I did the right thing._

  
Why did it feel so wrong?


	7. Routine

Joan wakes at 5:00am as is her custom. She runs for half an hour on her treadmill. Showers. Eats breakfast. Dresses in her uniform for the day. Packs her lunch for the day. Ignores the pair of shoes that Vera has left at the door.

  
She gets in her car. Ignores how far forward the passenger seat is left from when Vera sat there last. She is at work precisely eleven minutes before her shift is scheduled to begin.

  
There is a demure knock at the door. Joan knows that it is Vera dropping off the latest staff rotations. 


	8. Incarceration

The air between them feels as thick as the walls of the prison itself. It’s an apt metaphor. Since last night, they’ve both been locked inside some horrible place within themselves. 

 

“Ms. Bennett,” Joan says. She is curt. She is professional. She is aloof. She is screaming on the inside but she offers Vera only the slightest nod of her head. 

 

“I require your signature.” Vera is curt. She is professional. She tries to be aloof but Joan can hear the slight tremor in her voice. 

 

Joan is quick with her prefered pen. She does not watch as Vera retreats. 


	9. Normal

Vera leans her forehead against the cool metal locker in front of her and exhales. 

 

_ Everything will go back to normal.  _

 

She doesn’t know what normal looks like anymore. 

 

She doesn’t know what reality is if it isn’t grey-flecked hair tickling the inside her her thighs, as a strong tongue inserts itself into the most protected parts of her body and soul. 

 

She doesn’t want a reality that doesn’t include long legs arching off of a wide and shared mattress, as elegant lips caress the consonants and vowels of her name over and over. 

  
She doesn’t know  _ what _ to do. 


	10. Excess

 

Joan frowns as the pasta from her pot overflows mid-transfer to her plate. She’s forgotten how to cook just for one. She hasn’t had to since...since…

  
Since Vera walked into her life.

  
Since she violently tore away at the barriers around her heart.

  
Since she turned Joan’s painstakingly organized life upside down, rightside up, and then let it fall, flat on its face.

  
She reaches for the bottle of white in her fridge and pauses. Her hand twitches. This is Vera’s favourite wine. This is Vera’s favourite dish.

  
The contents of her dinner are hastily thrown into the garbage.


	11. Ache

Joan ignores the ache for a week until she is kicking her front door in and scrambling to get upstairs. 

 

Her hands are shaking as she makes quick work of her pants and underwear. She does not remove anything above her waist. 

 

Her thighs are slick and her sex is dripping wet. Her clit pulses, it  begs for her touch and so she obliges, sliding two long fingers over her neglected flesh. 

 

She bites down on her lip to prevent herself from moaning. Or worse, from calling out for Vera. 

 

  
Her eyes roll back as she falls against the bed. 


	12. Need

Joan had always maintained a firm control over her occasional sexual urges Had always held them, painstakingly, in check. Until her, until _Vera_.

 

Six days without Vera and Joan is seeing her everywhere. Smelling her against sheets that she has washed four times since Vera left. Hearing her in a shower which is most definitely empty. Feeling her when Joan is absolutely, undoubtedly nowhere near her.

 

Six days without Vera and Joan’s entire body is mourning the loss of her lover.

 

Six days.

  
Joan is going to come in about six seconds from just the memory of her former lover. 


	13. Control

Joan's release rips through her. It feels like the air is being sucked out of her lungs.

 

It burns. It aches. Her cunt contracts and her knees buckle and her heart splits wide open. Her teeth release her bleeding lower lip and she lets out a cry so primal that she shocks herself at the sound.

 

Her hand falls away from her sex yet she keeps coming. She feels the pleasure pouring out of her and at the same time she feels her pain running in rivers down her high cheekbones.

 

Six days. Six _days_.

 

  
It’s a lifetime. An eternity.


	14. Motion

Vera joins a gym. A proper one. One that isn’t full of indelicately curious co-workers.

  
She runs every morning still, and ends with twenty minutes of pilates on her balcony as the sun rises. But at night, she goes to the gym.

  
She feels the muscles in her arms ripping and rebuilding with each bicep curl that she does. She can feel the bulk of her petite shoulders begin to grow with each increase in weight that she adds to the barbell.

  
She feels productive. Useful. Distracted.

  
Run. Pilates. Work. Gym.

  
Go to bed alone.

  
This is her new normal.


	15. Defy

After three weeks, Vera unpacks her suitcases. 

 

It takes a whole bottle of a lovely red that she had been saving to share with Joan before she can do it. 

 

With each glass, her anger towards her ex-lover grows. It fuels her. She attacks the suitcases wildly, rips her clothing out of them and shoves them all into her dresser. She doesn’t bother folding anything. 

 

It’s messy. It’s unorganized. It would give Joan a mild panic attack and the knowledge of that makes Vera feel good. Defiant. 

 

Lonely. 

  
Her second bottle and her tears come at about the same time. 


	16. Resign

As the paper hits Joan’s desk, she feels a pendulum strike her in the chest. 

 

“What is this?” she asks. It’s the first direct question she’s asked Vera in weeks. 

 

“My resignation.” 

 

Joan looks into cloudy blue eyes that are red-rimmed. How long have they been like this? When was the last time that Joan had taken a proper look at them? 

 

“Why?” she demands. 

 

Vera’s lower lip trembles. It used to do that just before Joan swooped in and kissed her. This is different though. 

 

Everything is so different now. 

 

“Because I give up,” Vera says, her voice cracks. 


	17. Team

“Unacceptable.”

 

Joan’s nostrils flare and her pale face reddens.

 

“I will not allow this. We are...an effective team,” she stammers.

 

“Team? Is that all we are? All we were?”

 

Vera’s hands are on her hips and Joan knows what that means. _Think think think_. Vera takes another step forward and leans over Joan’s desk. She plants her hands on either side of her and marks her territory on the polished wood of Joan’s desk.

 

“Think very carefully about how you answer,” Vera warns. There is a fire in her eyes.

 

Joan knows that she is about to be burned.


	18. Rage

“Well?” Vera demands.

  
“I am unsure as to what exactly you are asking of me Ms. Bennett.”

  
“You know exactly what the hell I am asking of you Joan,” Vera hisses. Joan realizes that she has never seen Vera so enraged.

  
The sinewy hands on Joan’s desk clench with tension and rage. Joan wishes that Vera would just strike her. That would be easier than this. Than navigating around Vera’s emotional demands. Than wrestling with her surprising desire to answer to those demands.

  
“What I want is for you to tell me what we shared. What I was to you.”


	19. Us

Joan’s jaw clenches and she clasps her hands in front of her on the desk.

  
Vera continues.

  
“I was practically living with you! And you couldn't...you...it felt like you barely tolerated me,” Vera pauses to takes a deep breath, “Maybe you just wanted to ensure my loyalty at work. My obedience,” Vera muses.

  
The blue fades from Vera’s eyes, leaving only two black holes in their place.

  
“What _was_ I Joan? Did I mean _anything_ to you?”

  
Vera bows her head and lets out a sob so broken and desperate that Joan follows with one of her own.


	20. Cannot

“Of course you did. You  _ do, _ ” Joan whispers. Her blunt nails are digging into the backs of her hands and she’s struggling to keep her breathing calm and measured. 

 

Vera looks up at Joan and her perfect lips let out a half-sob, half-sigh. 

 

“Then tell me. Why can’t you tell me?” she asks in a tiny voice. 

 

A rising, icy panic grips Joan’s heart. She wants to say the words. She wants to give them to Vera. A gift from her own, albeit damaged, heart. But she can’t.

 

“Vera, please,” Joan whispers. Her hands unfurl and they reach for Vera’s. 


	21. Separate

“You don’t let me in!” Vera cries. “I have no idea what you feel!” 

 

Vera pulls her hands away and paces in tight circles in front of the desk. She does not see the broken look in Joan’s eyes at her physical rejection.

 

“I love you Joan.” 

 

The last time Vera had said those words she’d looked up at Joan with hopeful expectancy that Joan had been predictably thorough in shattering. 

 

Joan doesn’t want to hurt Vera. But she also doesn’t know how  _ not _ to hurt her. 

 

  
“But I can’t live with uncertainty,” Vera says with a note of finality. 


	22. Return

The knock at Joan’s door comes as a surprise to her.

  
She’s enjoyed half a bottle of vodka on an empty stomach and was contemplating going straight to bed when she heard it.

  
“Vera.” Her former lover’s name leaves her lips like a prayer.

  
“I wanted to return this to you but felt that it might be inappropriate to do so at work.”

  
Vera nervously hands over Joan’s missing sweater. Joan can tell that it has been recently laundered and that makes her angry. She wants to smell Vera’s perfume, not her detergent.

  
Joan pushes it back into Vera’s hands.


	23. Keepsake

“Keep it Vera.” Joan slurs her words a little and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Vera.

  
“It would be inappropriate,” Vera tries. She _wants_ to keep it, but she knows that she shouldn't.

  
“Keep it,” Joan repeats. “I would like for you to...to have it,” she finishes awkwardly.

  
“Why?” Vera asks.

  
Joan shrugs. Her eyes are glossy and her cheeks are pink.

  
“Vera, do you really not know what I feel?”

  
Her question catches Vera off guard. “I have no idea Joan,” she says harshly, “You certainly never let me close enough to know.”

  
Joan nods sadly. “Keep it.” 


	24. Threat

A prisoner holds a needle to Vera’s throat and Joan’s entire world collapses.

 

Vera’s frightened blue eyes look into the CCTV and Joan is suddenly seeing Jianna all over again. 

 

“Fine,” Joan hisses into the radio in response to the demands. 

 

They stab her anyway. 

 

Joan does not visit Vera in Medical. She goes home and meticulously breaks every piece of glass she can get her hands on until her father steps out from the shadows to stop her. 

 

“But I kept my distance!” she insists as she falls to her knees on the broken glass. 

 

  
They stabbed her anyway. 


	25. Report

The events of the riot force Vera to take a day off for a much needed doctor’s visit. The results of her doctor’s tests makes her blood run cold. She returns to work, with one week and two days left, before she can leave Wentworth as a free woman.

  
She knows that she has to deliver her amended medical report to Joan personally.

  
When she arrives in Joan’s office, twenty minutes before her shift is scheduled, she finds the formidable woman on the floor.

  
Joan is sobbing and clutching the crumpled photographs of a young Aboriginal woman in her hands.


	26. Envy

Vera helps to rip the rest of the photographs off of the walls of Joan’s office. She helps Joan into her chair. She fetches a glass of water and smooths out a photo to feed to Joan’s twitching hands. 

 

The woman in the photograph cannot be older than her mid-twenties. She is pretty in a plain way and Vera surmises that  _ this  _ is the woman who Joan loves.  _ This _ is the woman who has her heart completely. 

 

The revelation makes Vera feel ill. Yet she doesn’t hate this unnamed woman. She envies her. 

 

Vera wishes that she could be her. 


	27. Failure

The woman’s name is Jianna Riley. She has been dead for seventeen years.

  
The envy that existed inside of Vera minutes ago wastes away and leaves nothing but self-loathing in its place.

  
“She was..I..I failed her Vera,” Joan whispers.

  
Vera locks the door before perching on the edge of Joan’s desk. She kisses the crown of her former-lover, soon-to-be-former-boss’ head.

  
“You didn’t fail her. You gave her something beautiful when she had nothing else in this world,” Vera says. She feels tears welling at the corners of her eyes. “You gave her your love. And that is _everything_.”


	28. Unveil

Joan shifts and her lips are now level with Vera’s for the first time in weeks.

  
“Why are you here?” she asks. It’s then that she notices the report next to them on the desk. Vera had thrown it there before laying tender hands on either side of her face.

  
Vera can’t quite meet Joan’s eyes as Joan extracts the file.

  
Joan’s lips form a thin line and her eyes become hard like black, glinting diamonds.

  
“The riot?” she asks. Her voice is dangerously low and it frightens Vera.

  
“Y-yes.”

  
Joan’s hand is soft and strong as it envelops Vera’s.


	29. Surprise

Vera opens the door to her apartment knowing who is on the other side.

  
Joan walks in and past Vera. The confidence in her strut is belied by the way her eyes nervously bounce around. Vera is reminded of the first night that they’d gone to bed together.

  
Joan eyes the disheveled state of Vera’s apartment and her lip twitches.

  
“I wanted to see how you are doing,” she announces. Her eyes meet Vera’s.

  
“I wasn’t expecting company,” Vera admits. Shyly, she pulls Joan’s sweater tighter around her.

  
The action shakes Joan. She wasn’t expecting to see Vera in _that_.


	30. Gift

It had been a half-hearted gift presented to Vera one evening when Vera had complained about Joan’s house being too cold for her liking. 

 

Joan had gotten out of bed to retrieve it from her wardrobe and help Vera into it. The sleeves were comically long on her but Vera had squealed with delight, and so, Joan had never asked for it back. 

 

Seeing Vera in it now is far too evocative for Joan. 

 

Her hand comes up to cup Vera’s cheek. 

 

“Joan?” Vera squeaks. She leans forward on the tips of her toes. 

 

  
The pull between them is magnetic. 


	31. Home

The first touch of Vera’s lips against her mouth feels like home.

  
Vera’s skin is warm and soft. Joan wants to drown in it.

  
Vera wraps muscled arms around her and Joan feels a blissful ascension begin to spread through her limbs.

  
Neither one of them can keep lips or hands off of the other. They stumble backwards and Joan unceremoniously trips over a pair of discarded pants on the floor.

  
“Vera,” she growls.

  
Vera pushes down on Joan’s shoulders, landing her on the edge of the bed.

  
“Wasn’t expecting you,” she repeats. There is a smile on her lips.


	32. Touch

Vera’s hands are cupping her face and her petite body is on top of her. Overpowering her. Joan trails her hands under Vera’s - _her_ \- sweater and feels thicker biceps than she remembers. She groans.

  
Then she remembers that Vera doesn’t want _this_ anymore. Doesn’t want _her_.

  
“Vera, wait. We shouldn't,” Joan pants.

  
Vera leans her forehead against Joan’s. Her smile is gone now and there is a familiar sadness tugging at her delicious, full lips.

  
“You’re right,” she whispers. She sits next to Joan on the edge of the bed and nervously plays with the hem of their shared sweater.


	33. Options

“There are...several options as to how to deal with…” Joan can’t bring herself to say it.

 

“Options?” Vera repeats incredulously.

 

“I’ve done some research.”

 

Of course she has. She’s probably memorized the entire medical textbook too, Vera thinks.  

 

“I haven’t thought much about it,” she admits, “It feels so surreal still.”

 

“You could work around your treatments,” Joan implores. The elephant in the room inflates to its fullest size.

 

Joan’s hand clumsily reaches for Vera’s on the bed. She brings it to her lips.

 

“Don’t leave,” Joan whispers fiercely.  

 

Vera exhales slowly.  

 

  
“Vera, I don’t want you to leave.”

 


	34. Guilt

Vera’s thumb traces Joan’s lips. She’s always been drawn to them. Even on the first day that they had met.

  
She has always felt the inevitable pull between them.

  
“I’ve already given my notice. Tomorrow is my last day,” Vera notes with no small amount of sadness.

  
Joan shifts uncomfortably. Her face wears an emotion that Vera has never seen before, it takes her a moment to name it; guilt.

  
“I might have,” she clears her throat, “overlooked my responsibility to inform the necessary parties of your resignation.”

  
“Might have?” Vera repeats. Her thumb stills.

  
“I might have,” Joan affirms.


	35. New

Fletcher is fired after a bag of narcotics is found in his locker. Photos of Smith’s deceased daughter are mysteriously plastered all over the cafeteria.

  
Joan takes great pleasure in their public humiliation.

  
She and Vera settle into a new routine.

  
Vera gets used to the smell of latex gloves and bleach which Joan brings over after each of her treatments. Joan gets used to the feeling of bathroom tiles beneath her knees as she removes evidence of Vera’s illness.

  
They both get used to Joan stroking Vera’s sweaty hair as she rests. Joan removes her gloves for this task.


	36. Anticipation

There are times when Vera swears Joan is about to say something, and her heart swells nervously.

  
She catches Joan willing herself not to cry as she finishes to clean Vera’s blood and vomit from inside her toilet, or on the floor if she wasn’t quick enough.

  
She catches Joan discreetly opening Vera’s fridge to check if there is enough food to last her the week.

  
She catches Joan staring at her with undisguised longing from her end of the couch.

  
Each time, Vera swears Joan might finally say something and her heart soars…

  
Joan remains silent.

  
...only to crash.


	37. Watch

Vera curls into a ball when she sleeps in a way that reminds Joan of kittens.

  
Her hair’s gotten thinner. It’s dry and brittle. She isn’t eating properly and the women have been trying her patience. Joan is careful as she runs her fingers through it and watches the rhythmic rise and fall of Vera’s chest.

  
Today’s appointment came at a bad time. Vera was exhausted and agitated and that was before the nurses took five vials of blood from her for testing.

  
Joan sits by Vera and watches over her. She realizes now that she’ll always watch over her.


	38. Sleep

Joan falls asleep in the chair next to Vera.

 

It’s the dead of night when she feels Vera tug her hand and grumble at her to get into the bed. 

 

“I don’t thin-”

 

“Just get in. I’m freezing and you’re going to have a sore back tomorrow,” Vera sighs. She’s in no mood to argue. She’s exhausted. Nauseous. Nervous. It’s been months since she has felt Joan next to her. 

 

“Sleep,” she commands, “Tomorrow, we’ll talk.” 

 

Joan climbs into the bed and Vera rolls over to face her former lover. 

 

“I’ve missed you,” Vera whispers as Joan pretends to sleep. 

 


	39. Familiar

Vera stumbles into her kitchen and groans. She is sore from all the poking and prodding that she had to endure the day before. 

 

Joan is setting two plates for them at her small table. Vera can smell fresh coffee being made and she smiles sadly. 

 

This all feels painfully familiar. 

 

“You’re looking better today,” Joan says softly. Her hands rest on Vera’s shoulders as she looks her over. 

 

“I’m feeling better,” Vera offers, “It’s uh, it’s been some time since I had a decent night’s sleep,” she admits. 

 

Joan stares at her for ages before finally replying. “Me too.” 


	40. Together

“I’m glad that you slept well,” Vera offers awkwardly.

  
Joan’s thumbs work in tiny circles against her shoulders, overtop her cotton shirt.

  
Vera’s hands come up to cover Joan’s.

  
“Listen, Joan, last night -”

  
“It’s fine Vera.” Joan suddenly withdraws her hands and clenches her jaw. “Last night never happened.”

  
Vera wraps her arms around Joan’s neck and crushes her weight against the taller woman.

  
“It happened. Last night happened,” she breathes against Joan’s cheek.

  
Joan doesn’t want to believe it. It’s easier. It’s easier to walk away now before Vera leaves her again.

  
Vera’s lips caress Joan’s jaw. “It happened.”


	41. Acceptable

“I don’t know what to do here. I’m not exactly an expert on...” Vera gestures shyly between their bodies sitting next to one another on Vera’s couch.

  
Joan’s fingers smooth out invisible wrinkles in her trousers.

  
“Vera, I haven’t exactly written the book on this either,” Joan says with notable difficulty. She refuses to meet Vera’s eyes.

  
Vera cradles her cup of coffee between her hands and holds the hot porcelain to her lips.

  
“I would like to move forward,” Vera tries. “Whatever that looks like between us.”

  
“Forward is acceptable,” Joan says after several long moments of uncertain silence.


	42. Forward

Forward is dinner once a week even when Vera doesn’t have a scheduled doctor’s visit.

  
Forward is Joan’s dry laughter filling the space of Vera’s apartment.

  
“I’m sorry for leaving so...dramatically.” Vera says shyly. “I just...needed…” Vera sighs. “Nevermind. I’m just sorry if I hurt you when I left,” she says quietly.

  
Next to her, Joan nods grimly in acknowledgement of Vera’s apology.

  
They’re both trying to heal. Trying to move forward.

  
Forward is Joan’s fingers finding themselves inching towards Vera’s on the cushion between them. Forward is Vera meeting her halfway.

  
Forward feels good. Forward feels right.


	43. Overdose

“What’s this?” Vera demands as she slams the report onto Joan’s desk. 

 

Joan’s eyes don’t leave the screen in front of her. 

 

“Gambaro was found dead in her cell this morning. An alleged drug overdose.” 

 

“It’s not alleged if the doctors found the drugs in her system Vera,” Joan corrects. 

 

“Did you do this?” Vera asks. 

 

Joan’s eyes leave the screen to meet Vera’s. There is a harshness in them that Vera hasn’t felt before.

 

“Do what?” she asks. Her voice is low and dangerous. For the first time in a very long time, Vera is actually afraid of her. 


	44. Affirm

“Vera let me in.”

  
Vera opens the door a few inches and stares up at Joan.

  
“I don’t thin-”

  
But Joan is pushing past Vera and closing the door behind her and pulling Vera by the hand to the couch.

  
Her hands are warm and strong as they flatten out against Vera’s cheeks.

  
“No one is going to hurt you. Not ever again.”

  
Joan’s affirmation is firm and genuine and Vera’s heart hurts as it contemplates the unspoken promises in Joan’s words.

  
She leans into Joan’s soft touch and closes her eyes. “Joan? What am I to you?” she whispers.


	45. Everything

Vera lets out a soft cry as Joan pulls her hands away from her. She opens her eyes and sees Joan rubbing her hands back and forth along her trouser-clad thighs. Her eyes are wide and terrified. Her teeth are sinking into her lower lip. Her face is unusually pale. 

 

“Please? I’m not trying to start a fight. I just need to know,” Vera pleads. She knows that she’s pushing her luck. 

 

“Y-you’re my Deputy,” Joan starts, “A...friend. Someone that I trust. A…,” she pauses. 

 

Vera leans her head against Joan’s shoulder. 

 

“You’re everything to me Vera,” Joan whispers. 


	46. Relief

Tears follow. Hot and thick and messy. 

 

“Why couldn’t you tell me before? All those months, you never said anything.” She thought that Joan’s words might finally relieve her. They haven’t and Vera can’t understand  _ why _ she still hurts so much. 

 

“Emotions lead to mistakes.” Joan never wanted to hurt Vera. But she knows that she has, irrevocably, hurt her. 

 

“Who said that?” Vera demands. 

 

From her peripheral vision, Joan sees him looming over them. Threatening the shred of happiness that they’re trying to nurture. 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, shaking her head. 

 

  
“This isn’t a mistake,” Vera says firmly. 


	47. Mistake

“This is a mistake Joan,” her father warns as he follows her around her kitchen. His eyes are as hard and menacing as Joan recalls them being in the flesh.

  
“I don’t need you.”

  
“You sound like a child,” he says, his disgust is evident.

  
Joan slams the serving spoon onto her countertop. Hard.

  
“You said that emotions lead to mistakes,” she hisses, “I said nothing and Vera was _still_ attacked! I _hurt_ her!” Joan says, devastated.

  
Her snarls at her. “You might have kept your distance Joan, but that doesn’t mean that you didn’t allow yourself to feel it.”


	48. Disappointment

Vera descends the stairs nervously. This is the first time she’s been inside this house since she packed up her things and left five months ago. She doesn’t know what to expect from this evening.

  
She isn’t expecting to find Joan shouting at her fridge.

  
“Yes, I felt it and I still do! I failed! Go on, tell me what a disappointment I am! Tell me that I am _nothing_ of what you had hoped for!”

  
Her hair has fallen from her ponytail and is clinging to her wet cheeks.

  
Vera approaches her timidly. “Joan? Who are you talking to?”


	49. Trepidation

Joan’s heart stops. 

 

Vera takes a cautious step forward. 

 

Joan retreats. Her shame comes crashing down on her and it’s suddenly all too much. 

 

“Oh Joan, come here.” Vera is at her side within seconds to kiss Joan’s salty tears as they fall from the edge of her handsome jaw. 

 

“Whoever it is, I won’t let them hurt you,” Vera says. She doesn’t actually know how to protect Joan from her own demons but she’s willing to try.

 

  
She holds Joan until both of their tears stop. Then she picks up an apron and follows Joan’s lead in the kitchen. 


	50. Silence

They recline against Joan’s large mattress and Joan allows Vera to stroke her hair. 

 

She should be doing this for Vera. Vera is the one who is fighting a battle with her own body. Vera is the one that needs protecting. 

 

There is still so much that they haven’t addressed. Like why they’re back in this bed together after Vera left her. Like why she refused to accept Vera’s resignation. Like why she now accompanies Vera to every doctor’s appointment. 

 

They’re hard conversations and sometimes, silence is easier. 

  
It’s easy being with Vera like this. Joan never wants to leave. 


	51. Surfacing

Joan wakes at dawn to find Vera’s angelic face resting overtop her chest.

 

Vera’s hair, shorter now to help promote healthy growth, falls over her face and Joan cannot help but gently smooth it back.

 

Beneath Vera’s cheek, Joan’s heart beats wildly. Each _thump_ against her ribcage becomes stronger, harder. It is as unabashedly greedy as the rest of Joan, and wants nothing more than to be pressed up against Vera’s delicious skin.

 

Her face grows hot and her throat feels tight as her heart pumps even harder beneath her skin, muscle, and bone.

 

Her truth is surfacing, at last.


	52. Perfect

“I love you.”

  
Vera blinks. Rubs her eyes. Then licks her lips and sits up to regard Joan with a daringly hopeful look.

  
“S-sorry?” Vera stumbles. Surely she is still dreaming, right?

  
Joan’s face reddens and she sits up as well. There is a notable awkwardness in how she crosses her arms over her chest. She looks like she’s preparing herself for a physical attack.

  
“I...I love you. I always have,” she mutters. It’s both awkward and inexperienced.

  
Vera lets out a noise somewhere between a sob and a squeak as she wraps her arms around Joan.

  
It’s _perfect_.


	53. Love

Joan is soaring so high above the clouds that she can’t see anything but blue all around her.

  
Vera’s eyes, her stunning, devastatingly honest eyes, lock onto hers and she feels as weightless as air.

  
“I love you,” she mumbles against pliant lips.

  
“I love you,” she bites into the sinew of a taut neck.

  
“I love you,” she flicks around a rigid nipple.

  
“I love you,” she kisses against golden thighs.

  
“ _Fuck_ , I love you,” she groans into the wet, soft curls sprouting from even wetter, softer flesh.

  
“Vera, I _love_ you,” she cries against a wildly beating heart.


	54. Lost

“Why now?”

 

Vera catches the hand playing with her hair and brings it to her lips. 

 

Joan lets out a tense breath.

 

“You lost her, Jianna,” Vera says knowingly. She kisses each of Joan’s knuckles. 

 

Joan nods. 

 

“And you were afraid that you’d lose me too?” 

 

Joan’s lip trembles. 

 

“Joan? You’re not going to lose me. Say it.” 

 

When Joan doesn’t immediately comply, Vera pushes her onto her back and straddles her.

 

“Say it,” Vera’s teeth worry the side of Joan’s neck.

 

  
“I’m not going to lose you!” Joan cries out as Vera’s mouth brings her to soaring heights again.


	55. Found

“I did lose you.”

  
Joan’s hands are resting overtop her stomach. She is watching a sprawled-out Vera read next to her. For such a small woman, Vera takes up an unprecedented amount of space in bed.

  
Vera closes her book slowly and sits up.

  
Joan lifts her chin and repeats herself. “I lost you Vera. You willingly left me.”

  
Vera’s warm hand rests against Joan’s cheek.

  
“I left because I had to. It hurt not knowing what I was to you.”

  
Joan lowers her head guiltily. Vera’s hand does not waver.

  
“I came back Joan. I will always come back.”


	56. Question

“Ms. Bennett,” Joan addresses her curtly and with a stiff nod but there is a softness in her eyes. 

 

“Governor,” Vera replies. She does a much poorer job at disguising the affection and mirth in her tone. 

 

It would annoy Joan, if she wasn’t so hopelessly in love with her Deputy. 

 

The doors to the elevator close and Vera can’t hold back her grin anymore. It stretches across her beautiful face. 

 

“Would you like to have dinner tonight?” she asks sweetly. 

 

Joan scoffs and straightens her jacket. They both know that there is only one right answer to that question.


	57. Missing

“You should move back here.” 

 

Vera props herself up on a bent elbow. Joan looks back up at her with an openness that Vera knows is both painful and immensely difficult for Joan to reveal. 

 

“Why?” Vera asks.

 

Because Joan loves her. Because Joan craves her presence. Because… 

 

“It would be efficient,” Joan reasons. 

 

“Efficient?” Vera raises an eyebrow. 

 

“That’s...not entirely why.”  Her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She wishes that she was better at expressing these sorts of things. 

 

“Try again.” Vera licks the shell of her ear. 

 

“Because I want you to!” Joan gasps. 

 

“Mmm, better,” Vera whispers. 


	58. Impasse

A knife is found in Bea Smith’s bunk after Joan issues the order for a random cell toss.

  
Smith is slotted for three weeks before Vera finally does the unthinkable.

  
“Joan you cannot do this,” Vera says.

  
Vera is shaking with rage and with fear and with the knowledge of just what Joan is capable of.

  
“The riot was months ago. You have to move on,” Vera implores.

  
Joan stands from her chair and holds her head high.

  
“Your shift has ended Vera. Go. And when I get home, I do not want to hear about this, is that understood?”


	59. Punishment

Vera’s hand rests overtop Joan’s. 

 

“Joan, we need to talk about this.” 

 

Joan’s lip curls and she hisses at Vera, “You will not undermine my authority while we are at work.” 

 

“Christ! Joan, I am not trying to undermine you anywhere! But you can be impossible sometimes. I have no  _ choice _ but to bring it up when we’re at work!” Vera slumps back into her chair and pushes her dinner plate away from her. 

 

Vera tries to pull her hand away but Joan does not let her.

 

“They harmed you,” she growls, “I will punish them as I see fit.” 


	60. Understand

Vera’s forehead rests against her knees. The water has grown cold but she can’t bring herself to move. 

 

She feels the swoosh of air around her as Joan kneels next to the tub. 

 

“I know  _ why  _ you did it,” Vera sighs. “You need to see them suffer for what they did. To both Jianna and I.” 

 

Joan flinches at the mention of her dead lover. 

 

“Every time you hurt them, I hurt too because I can’t move on.” 

 

She lifts her head to look at Joan with weary eyes. 

 

“I need to move on. And you deserve to as well.” 


	61. Cease

Joan carries a towel-clad Vera to their bed. She places her precious cargo in the middle of the mattress before curling up next to her. 

 

“I just want you to be happy Joan.” Vera’s fingers play with the pronounced white streak just above Joan’s ear. “We both deserve to be happy. Please? Let me make you happy.” 

 

Words escape Joan. 

 

She doesn’t want to stop. She wants to correct. To rectify. She wants someone else to feel the burden of her immense pain and failure. 

 

  
She’s afraid of what will happen if Vera doesn’t allow her to do that anymore. 


	62. Release

Vera sighs as she enters their shared kitchen. Joan is bent over the cutting board, her large, talented hands working expediently to slice an array of vegetables for their salad. 

 

Joan looks up from her work to offer Vera a rare and soft smile. “Ah, you’re home,” she says. Her affection is evident.

 

Vera leans her head against Joan’s upper arm. “You released Smith into General today.” 

 

Joan stiffens. “I did.” Her hands still.

 

Vera stands on the tips of her toes to brush her lips against Joan’s handsome jaw. 

 

“I love you,” she breathes against the soft, pale skin. 


	63. Safe

Joan wraps her arms around Vera’s shoulders as Vera reclines against her on the outdoor loveseat. The air is thick with humid heat and it clings to the exposed skin of their faces, arms, and feet.

  
“Vera, are you happy here? With...me?” Joan asks after several peaceful minutes.

  
“Of course I am.”

  
“What you said, the other night, about us deserving to be happy?”

  
Vera hums and nods her head slightly.

  
“I would like that,” she says quietly.

  
“Is that why you let Smith go?”

  
A pronounced silence follows.

  
“I just wanted to keep you safe Vera,” Joan whispers.


	64. Happiness

Vera turns in Joans arms and looks into deep brown eyes that are the window to the beautiful and deeply damaged soul of her lover. She knows that there are parts of Joan that she will never fully understand, parts that Joan will never fully reveal to her. Vera wishes, not for the first time, that she could reach inside of Joan and bring warmth and happiness to these hidden depths.

  
“Are you happy with me?” she asks. “Do you think that you can be?” she amends softly.

  
Joan brushes her lips against the crinkled corner of Vera’s eye.

  
“Yes.”


	65. Permanent

“I’ve decided to sell my apartment,” Vera announces. 

 

Joan puts her book down and regards Vera nervously. 

 

“You have?” 

 

Vera moves closer to her on the couch. 

 

“I’m never there. I only go to clean it and make sure that the appliances are all still running. It’s a waste of my money and of my time.” 

 

“That’s a very permanent commitment. Are you sure Vera?” Joan asks worriedly. 

 

Vera plucks the heavy volume from Joan’s hands and lets it fall to the floor. She straddles the woman next to her and kisses her deeply. 

 

“Yes Joan, I’m sure,” she promises. 


	66. Belong

Joan feels safest like this, with Vera’s hand gently running through her hair, Vera’s lips meeting the top of her head.

  
No one’s ever touched her like this before. Not her mother. Not Jianna. Not either one of their ghosts who have haunted her in the many decades since their deaths.

  
Joan feels like she belongs when Vera touches her like this. Like she is a part of something, something important. Something beautiful.

  
She feels Vera’s fingers weave the silver and black of her hair into a loose braid and she smiles.

  
This is what home feels like, she thinks.


	67. Mourning

Vera had felt the change in Joan’s mood starting from this morning. She waits until tonight when they’re home to approach her.

 

Joan is on their couch, a tall glass of vodka in hand. The half-empty bottle is in front of her on the table. 

 

Vera kicks her heels off before sitting next to Joan. She takes the glass from her and has a sip. 

 

Joan watches her silently. 

 

The glass clinks as Vera sets it down on the table. 

 

“Tell me about her,” she requests softly. 

 

Tears slide down Joan’s face. “She would have been forty-three today,” she whispers. 


	68. Healing

Vera makes love to her slowly. When Joan’s orgasm finally visits her, it takes with it a sizable chunk of her pain. 

 

Joan’s tears are silent as Vera plays with her hair. 

 

“It doesn’t...bother you?” Joan asks hesitantly after a while. 

 

“I would never ask you to stop loving her.” 

 

Joan nuzzles the skin of Vera’s taut neck. She exhales a shaky breath. 

 

“It’s just...I wouldn’t want you to think that I don’t want this.” 

 

Vera presses a kiss to Joan’s sweaty forehead. 

 

“I love you Vera.”

 

“I know,” she says. 

  
For the first time today, Joan smiles. 


	69. Tradition

“I understand it’s traditional to...make an event of these sorts of things,” Joan stammers uncomfortably.

  
It’s been exactly one year since Joan woke Vera with the unexpected declaration of her love. One, blissful, trying, delicious, exhausting, glorious year.

  
Vera looks up from the exquisite floral arrangement.

  
“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” Joan admits.

  
“Umm…” Who knew that Wentworth’s most fearsome Governor was also a romantic?

  
“You have allergies? You don’t like them?” Joan’s heart sinks.

  
“What? No! They’re absolutely beautiful!” Vera reaches for Joan’s fidgeting hands.

  
Joan relaxes as Vera’s lips meet hers.

  
“Thank you,” Vera sighs happily.

 


	70. Procedure

A seated Vera winces as the needle slips inside her vein.

 

Joan stands next to her, her dark eyes are burning holes into the back of the head of the nurse who is extracting vial after vial of Vera’s blood. Her hand rests overtop Vera’s shoulder.

 

The nurse makes quick work of cleaning and bandaging Vera up before leaving them alone again.

 

Vera lets out a shaky breath. “Sorry, I just hate…” she shakes her head and blinks hard.

 

Joan’s jaw twitches. She squats down next to Vera and cups her face in both hands.

 

“I’m taking you home. Now.”

 


	71. Treatment

Vera runs slippery, soapy hands up and down Joan’s deliciously long legs which are wrapped around her compact body.

 

Joan’s hands rest protectively over Vera’s stomach. Her lips run up and down the length of Vera’s neck.

 

“You don’t agree with my choice,” Vera sighs.

 

Joan places a particularly tender kiss against Vera’s skin. “It’s a trial treatment Vera. I don’t like the odds.” She gathers the hot water around them in her hands and brings it up to wet Vera’s cooling skin.

 

  
Vera turns her head to nuzzle Joan’s jaw. “Nor do I. But I have to _try_ Joan.”

 


	72. Fear

Joan lays awake long after Vera has fallen asleep against her breast.

  
Vera is warm and soft next to her. Joan knows now that she can no longer sleep without some part of her being connected with some part of Vera.

  
She doesn’t ever want to remember what it felt like to fall asleep without Vera next to her.

  
She doesn’t ever want to have to come home to a house without Vera fluttering about in their kitchen, or sitting on their couch, or reclining in their bed.

  
Joan is utterly, and reasonably, _terrified_ that she just might have to.

 


	73. Kin

“You’ll need to sign at the bottom of the page.”

  
Vera breezes past Joan in the kitchen and pecks the Governor’s cheek.

  
“Morning, by the way,” she giggles.

  
Joan’s finger traces over the designation that Vera has written next to her name.

  
_Joan Ferguson. Next of Kin._

  
Vera presses a cup of coffee into Joan’s hand.

  
“I wanted to update my medical records, just in case…” she doesn’t finish the rest of her sentence. Some things don’t need to be spoken out loud.

  
“Yes, well, I’ll need a pen,” Joan says. She is noticeably flustered.

  
Vera grants her another kiss.

 


	74. Binding

At dinner, they pick up where they left off this morning.

 

“Do you ever think...about,” Joan struggles to articulate as she often does with these sorts of things, “a more legally binding...,” she waves her hand between them and looks at Vera nervously. 

 

“I’ve thought about it,” Vera admits. 

 

“You have?” Joan asks. Her voice is a pitch higher than normal. 

 

“I have. But it’s not something that I dwell on.” 

 

“You don’t?” 

 

Vera could swear that she hears a touch of disappointment. She reaches for Joan’s fidgeting hand. 

 

“I have you, don’t I? That’s all that I need.” 

 


	75. Expectations

Vera’s hand wiggles out from under the covers to rest over Joan’s heart. 

 

“Want to talk about it?” 

 

“No.” Joan lets out a frustrated breath. “Fine.” 

 

“It’s not that I don’t want that with you Joan, I don’t want to set an imposing expectation for you. I have your love, I have your loyalty. Anything else is extra.” 

 

Vera kisses the side of Joan’s thick neck. 

 

“We are compatible. Suited for one another,” Joan says defensively. 

 

Vera sits up. She looks down at a petulantly frowning Joan and smiles. 

 

“It makes perfect, practical sense Vera.” 

 

“Well then, let’s do it.” 

 


	76. Beginnings

The champagne tickles Vera’s nose as she tilts her glass towards her lips.

  
“Come on Joan, just a sip,” she pouts.

  
Joan wrinkles her aristocratic nose at the offered beverage.

  
Vera stands on the tips of her toes to kiss her endearingly stubborn partner.

  
“It’s tradition to toast to new beginnings,” she whispers.

  
Joan huffs before taking a sip of the champagne. Her disgust is evident from the scowl on her face.

  
“Absolutely revolting,” she says.

  
Vera giggles madly and downs the rest of her drink before wrapping her arms around Joan.

  
“Mmm, _much_ better,” Joan sighs against Vera’s lips.

 


	77. Reality

Vera is sprawled out across the mattress, limbs sticking out in all directions. The damp skin of her back glows as a reminder of their recent activities.

  
Joan sits in their armchair, holding the legally binding document they’d procured mere hours ago.

  
_Joan Ferguson. Vera Bennett. Domestic Partners._

  
Her fingers trace the raised ink on the page and her heart flutters happily.

  
“Come to bed. We’ll get a frame for it in the morning.”

  
She places the document gently on their dresser and gives in to Vera’s hands and lips which pull her down onto the bed.

  
They deserve this.

 


	78. Care

The trial drugs wreak havoc on Vera’s stomach.

  
She sits curled up in their bathtub as hot water from their showerhead runs down her.

  
Next to her, she hears the snap of latex gloves coming off and being disposed of. The smell of bleach is strong enough that it masks the smell of her bile.

  
Joan gathers her wet hair to run a generous amount of conditioner through it. Vera has already washed the sweat and sick out. Joan runs her hands through Vera’s curls and admires how they soak up the moisture.

  
“I’m here. I’ve got you,” Joan promises.

 


	79. Grateful

“Sometimes, I’m grateful for it.”

 

Joan moves down on their bed so that they’re eye-level. 

 

“Why would you say that?” she asks, eyes shining with hurt. 

 

“I think that maybe it had to happen for us to happen.” Vera’s hand is gentle against Joan’s cheek. “And I’m grateful, because you are the best thing to ever happen to me Joan.” 

 

Joan clenches her jaw and the arm around Vera’s waist becomes stiff and cold. The memory of Vera being stabbed plays over in her mind most nights, usually following the memory of Jianna’s lifeless, hanging body.

  
Her two greatest failures. 

 


	80. Forget

Vera knows that Joan’s silence this morning is due to their conversation last night.

  
She rests a tentative hand overtop Joan’s on their table.

  
“I’m sorry. What I said, that was thoughtless of me,” Vera apologizes.

  
Joan looks up from her newspaper and offers Vera a stiff nod.

  
“I just meant that...,” Vera huffs. She’s usually better at these discussions.

  
Joan’s thumb tickles her wrist.

  
“I know what you meant,” she says, “I regret that you believe I had to wait until your life was in danger to care for you.”

  
Vera’s heart sinks. “Joan, forget what I said, please?”

 


	81. Apology

Joan comes home to find Vera in their kitchen with her favourite wine and meal waiting and her favourite opera playing in the background. Vera is wearing Joan’s favourite dark blue blouse and tight black trousers. Her curls are loose and wild.

  
“This is an apology,” Vera says guiltily.

  
“An apology?” Joan repeats. She takes a step towards Vera.

  
Vera’s hands lovingly trace the wool of Joan’s uniform jacket up her arms and around her shoulders.

  
“Yes, and a reminder of how much I love you and how grateful I am to be with you,” Vera whispers against Joan’s lips.

 


	82. Delight

“That’s new,” Joan remarks from her reclined position on the bed.

  
Vera gives Joan a smouldering look from over her shoulder. “Do you like it?”

  
Joan pulls Vera backwards, and she topples over and into Joan’s lap. Her squeal of delight bounces around their tidy room.

  
Joan hums appreciatively as she pulls the silk robe off of one of Vera’s shoulders, exposing a firm breast.

  
Vera gasps as Joan’s mouth envelops her tender flesh.

  
“I like it even better,” Joan mumbles around Vera’s nipple, “when it’s,” she pulls the robe off and away from Vera’s golden skin, “off,” Joan growls.

 


	83. Elixir

Joan can’t get into the house fast enough. 

 

“Vera?!” She shouts. 

 

Vera is sitting at the table, her phone in her hands still from when she’d called to demand that Joan come home  _ right now.  _

 

Joan is on her knees and reaching for Vera’s hands. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

Vera is both crying and laughing and Joan doesn’t know what to make of any of this. 

 

“My blood tests came back - they can’t detect the virus anymore! It’s been six months since my last-”

 

Her words are swallowed up by the ferocity of Joan’s kiss and the purity of her love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Sick_lil_Saint for her assistance in researching Hep C treatment options/outcomes!


	84. Remedy

Gentle, long fingers trace the faint scars from needles and IVs along Vera’s forearm.

  
“I’ll have to go in for a follow up of course,” Vera sighs against Joan’s neck.

  
The air around them is dry and cool, Vera shivers slightly and Joan pulls the blanket higher around them. The bright light from the stars around them is reflected in Vera’s hopeful eyes. Joan can feel the joy bubbling beneath Vera’s skin, she can feel it in each kiss that Vera presses against her jaw.

  
Vera’s lips brush against Joan’s ear. “Why don’t we go inside and warm up, hmm?”

 


	85. Taste

Joan’s teeth worry the delectable skin of Vera’s neck. Hot water runs down both of their bodies as Joan’s fingers glide across Vera’s wet skin.

  
Vera’s hands are flat against the cool tile opposite them. Her groans fill the glass enclosure and wrap around them like the steam rising from the water.

  
Joan’s tongue flicks out to tease Vera’s ear as her fingers gently circle Vera’s swollen clit.

  
“Stop. Teasing,” Vera grunts.

  
Joan sucks on Vera’s earlobe and emits a low, rumbling chuckle. It makes Vera unbelievably wet.

  
“You are delicious,” Joan whispers before her fingers slip inside of Vera.

 


	86. Epilogue: Peace

“You could let yours go too you know,” Joan teases as Vera’s fingers run through hair that is now completely white. Of all the touches they’ve shared over the years, this one remains the most intimate. 

 

“I could never pull it off like you.”  

 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Joan says. She tightens her arms around Vera. 

 

“So? Feels good? Retirement?” Vera asks. 

 

“Partial retirement,” Joan reminds her. 

 

“Mmm, of course. And what will the partially retired Joan Ferguson do now?” 

 

“I was thinking of growing us a garden.” 

 

“A garden?” 

 

Joan smiles. “Every home needs one after all.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, most sincerely, to everyone who faithfully read each of these bite-sized chapters. This fic was highly experimental and challenging for me to write, but a joyful one! I never thought that my original 20 drabble idea would turn out to be this 86 drabble piece, but I'm glad that it did. Thank you for the comments, encouragement, and kudos. :)


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